


The Morning Sun

by SunshineChild



Series: Poor Life Choices [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M, Poor Life Choices, Team as Family, everyone loves tony, except himself
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-10-08 08:39:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10382754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunshineChild/pseuds/SunshineChild
Summary: Tony is struggling to deal with the fact that these people seem to care about him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I'm testing the water here. I hope this story is enjoyed.

The morning sun’s blaring light cast a warm mix of orange and yellow to the large expanse of the common room. Hundreds of dust particles were flying in the provided light, swaying back and forth as if in a highly choreographed dance. A highly choreographed ballet dance of tiny dust particles made up of all matters of ingredients. Dancing dust. Oh, that’s some nice alliteration. Tony scoffed. It was way too early for poetic descriptions of dead skin in tutus and ballet slippers.  
Tony slouched even further in his seat. He was definitely bordering on the bad side of sleep deprivation. Gone was the ‘I have great ideas and I can put an AI in everything’ stage, way past the ‘I think that needs wheels and possibly repulsor technology’ stage and now onto a new stage where Tony was debating whether or not he should become a poet. Oh yeah, he was definitely wasted on mechanics. His first poem would be called The Dancing Dusty Dust. Yeah, no, that’s good. That’s really good. Check out that alliteration. Cheeky. He should definitely make a note of that.

“Jarvis?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Make a note, would you? Anthony Stark and the Dusty Dust.”

“..It has been noted.”

“Thanks, J.”

Great. That’s that done. Now Tony would never forget that song. Song. Yeah. That great song Tony just wrote about dust and..ok, maybe he had been awake a little too long. Although, he did just create a piece of music in like three minutes flat so maybe he was still in genius mode. What is he saying, he’s always in genius mode. That is 100% his default setting. Yeah, cool, of course it is. Fuck you, Beethoven.

“Are you ok?”

Tony startled from his slouched position on the sofa and looked around manically. Movement to his left caused him to turn his head and finally notice the person sat on the sofa across from him.

Steve sat crossed leg among the couch cushions, clutching his beloved sketchbook in one hand and a pencil in the other. Tony’s eyes focused on the figure. The blonde’s whole body language screamed comfort, relaxation and most importantly, happiness. A warmth passed through the billionaire at the knowledge that Steve had now recovered his position in the world. He couldn’t even remember the last time he saw a dark frown on the super soldier’s face or even a fake smile. One year had passed since the battle of New York and the Avengers now resided in the tower. If Tony was honest with himself, which he rarely truly was, he had never been happier. His eyes refocused on the blonde’s hands. Wow. Look at those hands. Big and strong and powerful and gentle. Those hands deserved everything. Everything. Tony could definitely write a sequel to his dust sonnet using Steve’s hands as the subject. He would call it Dusty Hands. Nice.

“What are you grinning at?

Tony startled again. His eyes landed on the super soldier’s face. Steve’s blue eyes were glowing with humour and affection. Oh damn, Tony could get lost in those baby blue oceans. The light from the morning sun turned his blonde hair even lighter, creating a golden glow to the top of his head. Like an angel, Tony thought. Oh, he was definitely screwed. Well, not actually screwed but Tony was working on that. Steve’s cheeks were lightly blushed and his mouth was curled, forming a lazy, boyish smile as he continued to stare expectantly at Tony.

“What?” Tony asked, confused.

Steve let out an amused gust of breath, shaking his head. “I said, why are you grinning like a maniac?”

“I’m not.”

“You’re not?”

“No.”

“Ok.” Steve’s smile got brighter.

Tony nodded slowly, “Ok.”

Steve eyes returned to the sketchbook in his lap, still clearly smiling. “So..”

Tony blinked, “So?”

The super soldier’s eyes twinkled with mirth and yet he didn’t look up, “Anthony Stark and the Dusty Dust?”

Tony stared at him, unmoving. He opened his mouth, then closed it. He was at a loss. Giving himself some thinking time, he nodded slowly, processing the question. “Are we creating a band?” he asked at last. “Look Steve, I’m really flattered that you’d put me as the lead but with the Avengers going on and all the charity work we do, I really don’t think we’re gonna have time to..”

Ok, pause. Steve was looking at him with an unreadable expression, which usually meant that Tony had said the wrong thing. Ok, backing up, backing up. Had he been insensitive? Oh god. Maybe Steve was really invested in this whole band idea. And now Tony has just ruined it. Ok. This was fixable. Tony just needed to..oh god where’s Steve’s smile gone? Tony loved that smile and now it was gone because he stamped on Steve’s band. Could this morning get any worse? Hell no. No. Now Steve’s eyes were going all concerned. And his mouth. Oh dear lord. His mouth was turning into an upside down smile. If Tony hadn’t already earned his special place in hell, he would definitely be worried right now. Oh, Steve had such a nice mouth.

“Thank you.” Steve grinned.

Ah, there’s that smile again. Abort mission, everything is going to be ok. Tony tipped his head to the side, trying to look innocent and not because he had the sudden urge to be horizontal. “You’re welcome.” He met Steve’s eyes and smiled. Mini meltdown, over.

Wait a minute. Wait a minute. He was missing something here. Tony rubbed his cheek soothingly over the couch cushion. Oh. Look at that, he was now lying down. Ok. He can work with that. Taking comfort in the scratchy scraping sound of his stubble rubbing against the fabric, he took a deep breath. “Steve?” he asked.

“Yeah?”

Tony’s eyes closed of their own accord. “What are you welcome for?”

“Doesn’t matter, Tony.”


End file.
